The Parents
by Tyoushiro
Summary: How Ishida Hiroaki and Takaishi Natsuko met and came to start a family. Set in the 'Faith and Trust' universe.
1. Otousan

Notes: I wrote this to give an idea of the backstory for Yamato and his parents in the 'Faith and Trust' universe. There may be additional chapters in the future as plot bunnies strike.

* * *

 **Otousan**

You go to college because your parents are nothing if not encouraging, and you've received a sizable scholarship to Tokyo University to study the music you love. The classes are interesting until you're in your basic literature class, when you want to do anything but read or discuss what the teacher considers to be "classic" text.

On the third day of attending, you notice the girl sitting beside you. Her hair is shoulder length and somewhat lighter than most, but her eyes are brilliant and you like the way she laughs like a silver bell. When she drops a pencil and you hand it to her, your hands touch and you know right then: I'm going to marry this girl.

You ask her to help you study one day, because she's doing well in the class and you're not. She introduces herself as Takaishi Natsuko, and you go back to your dorm humming some old sappy love song that your mother used to sing while she cooked. You think you finally understand what it means to find your soul mate, and you can't help but tell your father over the phone later that weekend.

What does Takaishi-kun do? She's majoring in journalism because she wants to make a difference, and she belongs to all of those clubs that espouses animal rights and environmental conservatism and everything that a good Japanese girl is supposed to believe in. It's almost cliche but you don't care because when Takaishi-kun is tutoring you, you get a chance to listen to her voice while your mind tries to arrange the notes of a song you'll play for her on your guitar some day.

One day, it clicks. You might disagree with why the texts are considered classic, you might disagree with what the authors are saying, but you understand that the purpose is to make you think about your life differently than you have been to this point. The teacher is impressed with the change, and you get the highest score on the next essay assignment.

For the first time in your life, you feel like you've accomplished something worth while. It's not creative like music, but music isn't going anywhere. You change your major without telling your parents, and suddenly you're popular. The girls all want you to tutor them, and the guys all want to hang out after classes.

You still have eyes only for Takaishi-kun. She barely gives you the time of day after you've ousted her from her number-one spot, but then one day you both attend a party for journalism majors. There's alcohol involved, and you walk Takaishi-kun back to her dorm room like the gentleman your mother raised you to be. You're ready to leave her there at her door when she starts crying.

There's something about her tears that is so raw, so beautiful, that you can't help but press your mouth to hers.

And then she's kissing you back, her manicured fingers grasping the fabric of your shirt and pulling you close with surprising strength. You press her against the door, and there's the sound of students giggling in the hall.

Takaishi-kun fumbles with the door then, and suddenly you're both inside her dorm room. You kick the door shut, and Takaishi-kun leads you towards her bed. Her hands are tugging at your shirt where it's tucked into your trousers, her teeth nipping at your lips as she sits on the bed and pulls you down after her.

You don't know how exactly it happens, but suddenly, you're inside of her. It's like heaven, the two of you crashing together in earnest unison. Takaishi-kun moans and urges you on with her ankles wrapped tightly around your waist, and then…

It's over. You collapse in a tangled heap on Takaishi-kun's bed, and wake hours later with a hangover and the feeling that your mother would be very disappointed in your behavior. Takaishi-kun is smiling at you, though, with those soft blue eyes. You leave her with a smile, and she tells you to call her Natsuko.

The two of you date for two months before she tells you that she's pregnant. It's obviously your child, but Natsuko is trying to convince you that abortion is the only option. That her parents will kill her, if your parents don't kill her first.

You think it's ironic that Natsuko would fight for the rights of animals and the environment over the baby growing in her stomach, but you know saying that out loud would start a fight that wouldn't solve anything. Instead, you get down on your knee in the middle of campus and ask her to marry you. She cries because she's scared, and so are you, but the few students who witness it think it's because you're both so happily, stupidly in love.

When the weekend comes, you take Natsuko to Shimane to meet your parents. They love her even before you tell them that you've asked her to marry you, and when you tell them that she's pregnant, they're surprised, but supportive as always. Your mother is French, and reminds your father that love is for the young and foolish. She, for one, can't wait to become a grandmother.

Your father is practical, though, and wonders whether Natsuko's parents are aware that she's pregnant and in college. Natsuko lies and says that her parents are aware, and although disappointed, have accepted the facts. You don't like that she lies to your parents, but you understand why she does it, so you let it go.

Months go by, and you continue to excel in school. Natsuko gets horrible morning sickness that keeps her from going to class regularly, and her grades start to slide. Soon, she'll lose her scholarship and she'll have to tell her parents the truth. She pushes at you to file for the marriage certificate, and when you give in, she takes a leave of absence from school and goes to live with your parents in Shimane while you finish out the semester.

Your mother loves having Natsuko at the house, but Natsuko hates the country side. She misses the city, and hates that she has to rely on your father to drive her into town for something as simple as the ice cream and dried squid that she seems to crave constantly. According to your father, Natsuko looks ready to burst any day now, even though there's supposed to be another two weeks before she's due to give birth. You tell him that he's worried for nothing, that the doctors must know what they're talking about, and you hang up the phone.

You're almost finished with your final in ethics when a teacher's aide bursts into the room and speaks to the teacher in a hushed tone. The teacher then calls you out of the room and respectfully informs you that your young wife is in labor in Shimane. You're shaking as you apologize profusely to the teacher, and then you rush back into the room to collect your belongings and all but shove your exam into his hands. Everything's a blur as you make your way from campus to the train station, and from there it's a long, never-ending ride to Shimane.

By the time you arrive, Natsuko has been in labor almost ten hours. Her face is beaded with sweat even as your mother rubs her back between her shoulders, and she makes such pitiful noises that you just want to hug her. Every time you get within eye sight, though, Natsuko curses you and the alcohol you'd both been drinking the night she got pregnant. You tell yourself that she doesn't mean it, that it's the pain talking, not her, but it still hurts that you can't do anything to make her feel better. You let your father convince you to go down to the hospital's gift shop, and you spend hours debating which stuffed toy to buy for the baby that hasn't been born yet. By the time you return to the maternity ward with a newly purchased plush dog, your mother is crying and so is the baby Natsuko's holding in her arms.

They tell you its a boy, pressure you for a name. All you can think about is how this infant has captured your heart in the few minutes since you first laid eyes on him, and when they place him in your arms, you're conquered completely. Yamato, you tell them, and your father approves because it's a good, strong Japanese name for a boy. They ask which characters you want to use for the name, and you insist on katakana because kanji are a little too Japanese for your mother, who misses the French countryside where she grew up and still struggles at times to read the paper.

Your father seems to understand, and all you can do is grin down at the tiny baby whimpering in your arms.

In the weeks after Yamato is born, you find yourself caring for him most. It's you who changes his diapers, that burps him as carefully as possible. You feed him the bottle of formula because for whatever reason, Natsuko can't seem to produce enough milk to feed one tiny baby that is growing, in your opinion, all too fast. Natsuko takes a few days to visit her parents and calls to let you know that they're upset to be so lately informed of the marriage and Yamato. Natsuko's father insists that his daughter return to school the following semester, and you understand his concerns, so you agree. Your mother and father agree to take care of Yamato while you and Natsuko finish out school, and you're relieved because you'd rather your son grow up in the countryside where he can enjoy looking at the stars just like you did as a child.

When it's time to return to the city, Natsuko presses a reluctant kiss to the top of Yamato's head. You take the baby from your mother and you hold him carefully, trying to fix the memory of his weight and his smell in your mind because this is the reason you need to finish out your senior year well. You have a family to support, and this child is the center of your universe, and even though you don't want to leave him - can't bare the thought of not seeing him for weeks at a time - you know it's for the best. You hand Yamato back to your mother and wave good-bye to your parents before heading out to catch the train back to the city.

* * *

~ tbc...?


	2. Okaasan

Notes: I had forgotten that Natsuko's eyes were blue for some reason. My bad. I did recall the season 2 thing with grandpa being French, however after watching several hundred hours of Hello Counselor (a Korean show about families/people with misunderstandings) I was inspired by several people who were completely Korean in heritage (for like four generations) but had blue eyes. They were upset because everyone always assumed that they were somehow half-European, and medically it is possible (it's approximately 1:10,000 odds). Hiroaki's mother is French in this story because of my own experience in Japan two years ago when everyone assumed that I was Japanese or at least half Japanese (I'm actually mostly Welsh-Irish if you look at my pedigree).

This chapter ran a bit long, and it's definitely not finished. There will be more in a few days probably.

* * *

Your first day of college goes pretty much the way that your first day of any schooling goes: everyone takes one look at your eyes and assumes that you're a foreigner because it's practically unheard of to see a native Japanese person with blue eyes. It's something of a running joke in your family, because there's been four generations of blue-eyed Takaishi. It's why your father chose to go to school abroad, and despite encouraging you to do so, you insist on Tokyo University because you have a scholarship and it's just far enough away from home that maybe you can recreate yourself.

You hate all of your classes as soon as you sit down in them. Roll call is always the same: they call your name, take one look at your face and ask you which country you're from. They almost always assume England or America, even though you can barely speak two sentences in English. If your father had been sitting in your classes instead, he would've proclaimed France, but you've always been more like your mother, silently cursing the people who irritate you while smiling to their faces. By the time you get to your literature class, you're eager for a change, for a break in the ever-predictable pattern of questions…

He walks into the room a full five minutes before class is set to start, a guitar case slung over one shoulder. He's dressed like a country hick, but his face is handsome and he's very tall, something that you've always admired in a man. He sits beside you and barely even spares you a glance, instead placing his text books on the desk in front of him and then jotting something down on a notebook that might've been musical notes or random doodles, it's hard to tell.

When roll is finally called, you're certain that guitar-boy will stare at you when the teacher asks (for the fifth time that day) which country you're from. He doesn't even look up when you reassure everyone (again, for the fifth time) that your family is, in fact, all Japanese.

Days go by before guitar-boy, whose name is Ishida Hiroaki, asks you for help in the class. During one of your study sessions, you happen to see a picture of his parents tucked away in the corner of his day planner, and you comment on how adorable his mother looks. She's a tiny woman, and you ask what area of Japan she's from.

You're shocked when Ishida-kun tells you that his mother is actually French. He doesn't usually tell anyone, he says, because they always call him a liar afterwards. But you understand, so he trusts you.

It takes almost two weeks of tutoring - hours of explaining and trying to get Ishida-kun to see past the face-value of the text - before Ishida-kun understands what he needs to know about literature. When it's time to turn in the first major essay of the semester and Ishida-kun gets the highest score, you're pleased with yourself for having tutored him well.

Then you're angry with yourself because the girls in the class who'd barely even looked at Ishida-kun because of his countrified clothing are suddenly swarming him. They love that he's suddenly insightful, and when he practices his guitar in the quad, they sit and sigh and make dreamy faces at him. You can barely do more than say 'hi' to him without feeling embarrassed, and you can't help but feel jealous of the girls that are brave enough to do more than that.

There's a party for students majoring in journalism, and you go to it expecting to make a short appearance before excusing yourself to study. You don't expect to see Ishida-kun there, and as you watch the other girls in the department flirt with him, you're glad that someone brought beer. You drink it steadily until just blinking is enough to make your head spin. Ishida-kun notices and stops you before you can start drinking another beer, and he offers to walk you to your dorm room.

The walk is quiet, even though you're leaning heavily on Ishida-kun who, although drunk, is not quite as drunk as you. You think of all the things you want to tell him, of all the things you want to do with him, and you can't because you're afraid he'll turn you down. By the time you reach the dorm, you're so dejected that you've started crying, and Ishida-kun is staring at you as though he's not sure what to say.

And then he's kissing you, and it's everything that you thought it would be, sweet but firm and you can't help but pull him closer as you kiss him back. A few of the girls who had been flirting with Ishida-kun are giggling in the hall as they stagger by drunkenly, and it makes you possessive. You have to mark Ishida-kun as yours, to let everyone know that this man is taken.

You're desperate as you fumble with the door behind you, and relieved when it opens and the two of you spill gracelessly into the small room. Ishida-kun kicks the door shut and you lead him towards the bed even as your hands tug his shirt out of his pants. Once you're both on the bed, you fumble with Ishida-kun's belt buckle, and then his trousers, but then there's skin against your hand, hard and pulsing and the way Ishida-kun's breath catches in his throat is intoxicating. His hands slide up your thighs, under your skirt, and you wriggle your hips helpfully as he tugs the lacy fabric of your underwear down your legs. And then you're wrapping your legs around him, and there's pressure as he enters you, but it feels better than good, even if it doesn't last long.

Despite the alcohol, you your sleep is brief. You wake before Ishida-kun and watch him as he sleeps. His face is peaceful, like a child, and you wonder if his children would be free of your father's cursed blue eyes, or if perhaps his mother's French blood will somehow mark them in a different way. It's a silly thought to have, because you've only just met Ishida-kun, you've only just had sex for the first time. Marriage and children are years and years away, if they're even in the future at all. But you wax sentimental until Ishida-kun wakes up, and as you smile at him, you tell him to call you Natsuko. He tells you to call him Hiroaki, and you blush but you agree.

After that night, you continue to date Hiroaki. The two of you eat lunches together whenever you can, and every now and then you manage to sneak away from your studies to see a movie or eat a nice dinner at one of the more popular ramen bars. When your monthly cycle doesn't begin, you don't panic - after all, you're under a lot of stress with school, and it's always been a bit on the irregular side, anyway.

By the second month, though, when you start to feel a bit nauseated by the smell of your morning natto, you wonder if maybe you _should_ be panicking. Is it possible to get pregnant the first time? The four home pregnancy test kits in the bathroom all seem to think so. You don't want to say anything to Hiroaki, though, because surely anything over-the-counter can be wrong. The only solution is to see a doctor.

You make the appointment during one of your free periods, and when Hiroaki asks if you want to go out for an early dinner, you tell him that you're meeting a friend that's in the city. He seems disappointed not to be invited along, but you can't tell him where you're really going, so you accept it as well as you can and go about the rest of your day.

When it's time to see the doctor, your heart is pounding in your chest. It's just a little blood test, but when the doctor returns with the results, you feel like fainting.

It's a fact: you're pregnant.

What are you supposed to do? You're only in your first semester of college, and no one else knows about it. No one else even suspects. You could have the child aborted without ever having told Hiroaki, but the doctor advises you at least tell the father first. Japan's birth rate is low, each life is so precious… you know these as facts, too, but it seems so much scarier when it affects you directly.

You walk back to the dorm in a daze, and you're surprised to see Hiroaki sleeping in the hall, his back against the wall by your door. As you approach him, he wakes up and smiles a sleepy smile at you, and you think to yourself that maybe you could have his child after all. But you wait until the next day, when the two of you are in the middle of lunch and you can't stomach the smell of it, to tell Hiroaki that you're carrying his child.

You try to be calm when you tell him, and you let him know that you're considering abortion so he won't feel like he's trapped. But instead of getting angry or storming away in frustration, Hiroaki drops to his knee and asks you to marry him like he's been planning to do it for weeks. You accept, and Hiroaki tells you that he's taking you to Shimane to meet his parents over the weekend.

Shimane is far from Tokyo, and the train ride is difficult with your rebelling stomach. Hiroaki's father meets you at the station, and he's taller in person than you'd imagined from the picture Hiroaki showed you. He's a nice enough man who insists on taking your luggage and loading it into the back of his van, but you can barely understand his thick dialect as he asks you questions. Hiroaki acts as a translator, telling you that the drive from the station to the house will be short, but his dad wants to know if you need anything from town first, which you don't.

The drive, however, is not as short as you're supposed to believe, or maybe it just feels longer because of your nausea. You're so relieved when the van comes to a stop that you're tempted to drop to the ground and kiss it, but Hiroaki's father is opening the door and helping you out of the van like a gentleman instead of the patriarchal hick you were afraid he'd be. Hiroaki's mother is standing on the nureen, barefoot, and Hiroaki is running to greet her with a giant smile. He hugs her tight enough that his mother's feet leave the wooden planks and she laughs like a small girl, and it brings tears to your eyes because your parents have never been that expressively happy to see you.

You're led inside the house, and you can see the small hints of Hiroaki's mother's French heritage: bundles of herbs hanging from string by the window in the kitchen and small frames of embroidered flowers sitting on shelves amid pictures of Hiroaki and other people that you haven't seen before. When you sit down beside her, Hiroaki's mother comments about your beautiful eyes, and how they remind her of her little sister in Brittany. She doesn't ask if you're a foreigner, to your relief, and she asks you about what hobbies you have, and how you came to be dating her son.

Eventually, Hiroaki tells them that they're engaged. His father is taken aback, and his mother seems surprised, but she pats your hand as though she understands. And then Hiroaki tells them that your'e pregnant.

His mother says something in French that you don't understand, but she's smiling and crying and Hiroaki's father is asking you what your parents think of the situation. You try to reassure him that your parents are aware, that they understand, and you're sure that they would if you'd told them, but you're also scared that they would tell you to quit college and come home. It's easier to lie, and Hiroaki doesn't correct you.

Returning to college is a blessing and a curse: you enjoy your classes until the morning sickness becomes too much to bear. Some days it's difficult to get beyond the bathroom, and you can't bring yourself to do more than drink water and eat the crackers that Hiroaki brings you. Your teachers have warned you that your grades are sliding dangerously fast, and you're in danger of losing your scholarship.

Hiroaki suggests taking a leave of absence for the next semester since the baby will be due, and you hate that you're seriously considering it. You wait two days before asking Hiroaki to file the marriage certificate. When you go to the school's administration building to update your marital status, you file for a leave of absence citing family matters for the reason.

When the semester is over, Hiroaki goes with you to Shimane. His parents have already prepared a room for you with a lovely new futon that you wish was an actual bed. You smile gratefully, though, as you're given the official tour and told to make yourself comfortable. When you and your new husband go to bed, he promises to get a good job after he graduates, and to some day buy a house closer to the city for you and your unborn child. It's meant to be reassuring, but the hormones make it sound condescending and the baby is wreaking havoc on your stomach like a resentful little demon. Your husband doesn't even realize that you're angry with him as he falls asleep, and you curse him silently in your head that he's able to sleep at all.

It becomes a habit, though you don't realize it until Hiroaki returns to Tokyo and you're left with his parents and the two news channels that are the only entertainment the TV provides in the living room. You find yourself alternating between cursing Hiroaki for getting you pregnant and cursing him for leaving you in the middle of nowhere. When he calls (a nightly event) you complain about the lack of noise and the distance you have to travel for a decent snack to satisfy the baby's odd cravings. You always end up crying before the call ends, and inevitably your new father-in-law drives into town to get whatever it is you want.

It's just the hormones, that's what your mother-in-law says when you're crying because you feel like a horrible daughter-in-law when your father-in-law brings back not only the matcha flavored ice-cream and dried squid you asked for, but also a few of the fashion magazines that you enjoy reading and a giant castella cake that you didn't even know you wanted, but suddenly sounds delicious. Your father-in-law laughs at you as you blubber like the baby you're carrying, and your mother-in-law is massaging your shoulders while father-in-law fetches a spoon for your ice-cream.

When it's almost two weeks before the day that the baby's supposed to arrive, your father-in-law comments that it looks like the baby's turned. You tell him that he has to be mistaken, because you're terrified that he's right and you're just not ready to go into labor while Hiroaki is still in Tokyo sitting his final exams for the semester. Later that night, you overhear father-in-law telling Hiroaki what he told you, and it's frustrating when you walk into the kitchen for a bowl of natto and there's suddenly water soaking your legs.

Your mother-in-law is calm as they load you into the van, and she sits beside you in the back, patting your hand and stroking your hair and telling you that everything is going to be fine. There's a pain growing in your back and lower hips that's reminiscent of your monthly cycle, only you realize that it's going to be so much worse.

The hospital staff admits you when you arrive, though they warn you and your in-laws that it could be hours before you start to go into real labor. Father-in-law disappears to look for coffee and some snacks while mother-in-law massages your feet and legs to help your circulation. It's barely been an hour, and you're already ready to tell the doctors to cut the baby out of you to keep from having to go through even more pain.

Hours go by, and the contractions have finally started. You're not allowed to eat or drink, but you're encouraged to try different positions to make yourself more comfortable. It's all you can do to not throw something at the nurse who tells you this, because you're thirsty and hungry and oh-so-far from comfortable but you let mother-in-law coax you onto your knees on the bed and let her rub between your shoulders as another contraction strikes.

And then Hiroaki is in the room, pale-faced and wild-eyed. You shout at him when you see him, though you're not quite sure what you say. All you know is that he's to blame for what you're going through, and other than the demon trying to claw its way out of you, he's really the last person that you want to see right now.

Father-in-law takes the hint, and takes Hiroaki out of the room before you can say anything else that you might regret later. A few hours later, it doesn't matter because you're fully dilated and the doctor is urging you to push. You do, but it hurts, it hurts so much that you're sobbing and your mother-in-law is wiping sweat from your face and murmuring soft noises that could be French or just soothing non-sense. The doctor tells you that you're doing well, that it's not much longer, just another push…

You growl low in your throat as you push the second time, and you swear that you can feel the bones of your hip separating as the baby starts to crown. It takes two more pushes that threaten to destroy your sanity before the baby is out and wailing loud enough that your eardrums just want to burst. You collapse back on the bed from exhaustion, promising yourself that you will never have a second child.

* * *

~ tbc...


	3. Okaasan (continued)

3\. Okaasan (continued)

You visit your parents in Tokyo a few days after you and Yamato are released from the hospital.

It's a tradition, after all, for new mothers to spend time with their parents after giving birth, but you don't bring the baby with you to Tokyo. What would the point be, when in a few weeks he'll have to return to Shimane anyway? You promise your parents that you'll bring him to visit later, when school isn't such a large worry in the back of your mind.

If they're insulted, they hide their hurt well. Your mother insists on sleeping in your bed with you at night so that you can talk freely without worrying about offending your father's ears with your women's talk. It's shocking how much detail your mother goes into suddenly about sex and marriage and child birth, things you wish she would've spoken to you about before you'd gone off to college. Things that might have saved you from getting pregnant while in school in the first place…

Not that your mother seems all that upset about it. She gushes tears over the few pictures of Yamato that Hiroaki insisted you take with you, and promises to take you shopping for lovely new outfits for her first grandson to wear.

Your father has less to say about the whole situation than your mother does: he looks at the pictures of Yamato with a quiet, stern acceptance that makes you wonder just how disappointed he is in you. Of all the things that he could choose to say when friends or relatives call, he comments most frequently that the baby has your eyes.

They're the same eyes that you inherited from your father, you want to say, but you can't because you're afraid of what it might mean.

When your mother takes you shopping, you admit over a cup of weak tea that you're afraid you resent your baby. Bags of baby clothes and toys sit on the polished tiles beside you, and your mother reaches her hand out to cover yours comfortingly.

Did she feel the same way when you were born? Your mother hesitates to answer, and when she does, all she says is that there'd been no in-laws willing to help her raise you when you were a baby. She urges you to take advantage of your in-law's willingness to help raise their grandson while you still can, because they might not always be able to help.

You have schooling to worry about, your mother reminds you. Once you've finished, when you have time to devote to your adult life, you'll come to enjoy having a baby to play with. They're entertaining creatures, your mother insists, especially when they're first learning to talk and to walk. She'd always loved it best when you would crawl into her lap at the oddest moments as a child and fall asleep, your little head on her chest. You'll have moments like those with Yamato, she's sure.

It's reassuring to hear, so you push the fears and the worries from your mind as best you can and focus on enjoying the remaining weeks of your school break with your parents.

When school resumes, Hiroaki meets you in front of your dorm because he's missed you. He kisses your cheek, gives you a bouquet of flowers that you recognize as being cut from his mother's garden. There are more pictures of the baby thrust into your hands, and he rambles on about how large Yamato is getting, and what a beautiful smile your son has.

It's your smile, Hiroaki insists, and your laugh.

It's a sweet thing to be said, even if it's far too soon to be certain. You spend the rest of the day comparing your class schedules, jotting notes on calendars about when to meet for lunches and making a list of your combined expenses to budget as much as you can between the two of you. The look of dismay on Hiroaki's face is like a slap.

Why do you eat out so frequently? Is it necessary to go to your favorite hair salon when the beauty school offers the same cuts and colors for half price? Do you have to get your nails painted professionally, or can you paint them yourself? At this rate, you'll be broke before the semester's half over.

You've always gotten your hair done at that salon, you argue. You request the stylist by name because she knows what you like and she's good at her job, and why should you be the only one to give up the things you've always had? You're sure that your parents would be willing to pay for it if you asked them…

It's different now that you're married, your husband insists. You have a child at home that needs diapers, formula, clothes and eventually college. You have to save money for him, because he's your responsibility, not your parents and not Hiroaki's parents either. It's bad enough that they're giving you both allowances for school when you should both be working at least part-time to try to make ends meet on your own. If you ask your parents for money for ridiculous things like hair and nails, Hiroaki promises that he will wire the money back to them out of your joint account.

The way he says it sounds more like a threat than a promise.

Your blood is boiling with anger, and you tell him to get the hell out of your room. He wouldn't understand fashion or necessity if it hit him over the head with a Gucci bag, you shout, all but shoving Hiroaki out the door. It's bad enough to be married to someone that still dresses like he's living in the country, you refuse to conform to his countrified ideals.

Hiroaki splutters something about talking out your problems, but you've had enough of your husband for the night. You tell him that you'll sleep on it and slam the door behind him.

Stupid jerk.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks, but they're tears of anger and frustration as you look over the budget list again.

Twelve-thousand yen for hair, four thousand yen for nails… you're not asking for much there, are you? Your mother's perms easily cost three times as much… And is it so much to ask for thirty-six hundred yen a week for food?

You glance at Hiroaki's columns: nothing listed for hair, because you know that Hiroaki's father typically cuts it for him. For food, Hiroaki has set himself a budget of a mere thousand yen per week, which seems incredibly small. On that sort of budget, he'll have to eat on campus or cup ramen every night. It's unimaginable, impossible. Completely unrealistic.

You phone your mother because you need to vent to someone about your frustrations, and she listens so much more attentively now that you're a married woman.

Why not make it our girl's day, she offers. When you need a hair cut and your nails painted, she'll schedule appointments for you both. You can talk together and get pampered, and your husband will never have to know because your bank account won't even be touched. You can withdraw some money to keep him from getting suspicious and spend it on yourself, she suggests.

It's a great plan, you think, even if it makes you feel guilty to be getting what you want while you know your husband is restricting himself religiously. You feel even worse the next morning when he apologizes for getting so upset, saying that he should have tried to explain more rationally his position on the budget.

He shouldn't have called the things you love ridiculous. It was childish and unnecessary, and won't you forgive him, please?

He hugs you, and you kiss his cheek. You'll try to cut spending where you can, you promise, and Hiroaki thanks you for understanding. There's still a tension between the two of you as you head off to your respective classes, but its better than the night before.

The neat schedule that you'd both made on the calendar is scrapped almost entirely by the end of the week. You're on academic probation, and you have almost twice the regular load of classwork and projects to finish because of it. Hiroaki leaves you to your requested solitude so that you can concentrate, and again you find yourself regretting the baby that kept you away from school for almost two full semesters…

The days that you meet your mom at the salon for hair and nails become your single day of relaxation. You talk about school and how your assignments are coming along, how you think that you'll be off probation next semester and how infrequently you've managed to see your husband. You miss him, you realize, miss talking to him over lunch and sitting beneath the stars after a nice evening walk. Every now and then Hiroaki slips you a note wishing you luck with your classes and professing his love for you. It makes you feel warm inside, and you just want to lean your head on his broad shoulder…

It's like dating again, only you're seeing your husband less frequently than when you actually _were_ dating. There's something wrong about it, you think, because you don't miss your infant son the way you miss his father. Maybe because you haven't had time to bond with the baby, or maybe because Hiroaki is temptingly close to you while the baby is so far away.

You're actually glad when the semester is over and you can walk with your husband to the train station. He compliments you as you wait for the train to arrive, thanking you for helping him to save as much money as possible over the semester. There's a guilty knot in your stomach, because you haven't really saved money at all: your joint bank account barely holds more than two thousand yen after the train tickets have been purchased.

It's not enough to live on for four weeks, let alone to raise a child.

Hiroaki tries to reassure you that it'll be easier once he's graduated, when he can get a job and the two of you can start to save money for a house of your own. Life won't always be as bleak as your current bank balance. He's already made arrangements to work part-time in town while you're in Shimane, and he's sure that you could find a few hours of work as a cashier at the grocery story if you'd like to help out.

The thought of having to work in the small, backwater town makes your skin crawl, but you remember how little there is to entertain you at his parent's house and think it might be the better of two evils. It's something you consider because you don't want to spend the next four weeks changing diapers and making bottles while your head throbs from trying to understand your in-laws and their respective accents.

When you arrive in the station in Shimane, father-in-law is waiting for you. Mother-in-law is at the house with Yamato, who's been colicky for the past two days. There's been almost no end to his crying, no matter what your in-laws have tried to comfort him, and your father-in-law was grateful for an excuse to leave the house.

Hiroaki laughs and smiles that I'm-sorry-but-it's-funny smile of his and pats his father on the shoulder as they load your things into the van. You're already dreading arriving at the house, because you don't want to hear the baby crying, either. Hiroaki volunteers to drive the van, and father-in-law lets you sit in the front passenger seat. You stare out the window at the trees and foliage that pass by, wondering how unbearable this break is going to be.

It's wrong, you know, to be thinking so negatively. You should be trying to open your heart to the idea of motherhood, to wanting take advantage of the next few weeks to bond with your son. It's shameful how ungrateful you are towards your in-laws, you know, but it doesn't stop you from feeling the way that you do. There's a noticeable lack of a smile on your face when the van finally pulls up to the house and you notice the cloth diapers hanging on the line to dry in the yard.

Hiroaki notices, too, and asks his father why they're using cloth diapers.

They were good enough for their children, why not their grandson too, is the response he gets as father-in-law gets out of the van. Besides, cloth diapers are cheaper than those fancy disposable kind that city slickers seem fond of. It's a jibe you're meant to hear, because it lacks father-in-law's usual dialect, and it'll take a miracle for you to survive the next four weeks if this is what you have to look forward to.

Father-in-law is cranky because he hasn't been sleeping well, Hiroaki's mother whispers to you once you're in the house. She leads you to the crib where the baby lays sleeping, his little mouth parted and chubby fist resting near his cheek. The short, thick hairs on his head are blond you realize, and completely unexpected despite the light lashes that flutter against Yamato's cheeks.

Beautiful, you think, and so angelic. Nothing like the kicking, nausea-inducing creature that lived inside of you for almost nine months. You can almost understand Hiroaki's infatuation, you think, listening to the sound of Yamato's breathing. When your husband stands beside you, staring down at your son, you lean your head against his chest and just breathe.

Maybe… maybe it isn't so bad, you think. When the baby is sleeping so peacefully, you think you might be able to handle being a mother after all. You'll wipe away his tears, bandage his scrapes, encourage him to learn thoroughly in school so that he can become a doctor or a lawyer that your parents can be proud of. Maybe then your parents will forgive you for getting pregnant in the first place.


	4. New Year (Hiroaki POV)

NOTES: In Asian culture, age is calculated slightly differently than Western culture. You are considered 'born' at conception, and so when the actual birth takes place, a child is considered to be 1 year old. Another year is added during the lunar New Year (known more popularly as Chinese New Year).

* * *

 **Otousan (continued)**

You spend your break working not one but two part-time jobs. The first job is the same on-call delivery job you've had since you got your license, but the second job offers more hours working as a stock clerk in the grocery store. It's an ideal situation, too, because the manager schedules you to work the same shifts that your wife is working as a cashier. It gives you a chance to spend time with your wife away from the baby and your parents, and if it also saves money by saving gas, well… that's just an added bonus.

Yamato is still the apple of your eye. You're always eager to see your son when you get home, and you like to think he's just as happy to see you.

It's hard to tell, though, when all he can really do is stare up at you with those big blue eyes and gurgle.

Natsuko is noticeably indifferent to Yamato most of the time. She holds Yamato when your father is in the room, but as soon as he leaves, she readily hands the baby off to you or your mother. You write it off as Natsuko's lack of experience with children, because in other ways she's very attentive.

What do you think of encouraging Yamato to be a lawyer? She asks you the question on your drive home from work one night, and the look on her face is an earnest one. Perhaps a doctor, she adds when you aren't quick to respond.

You just want your son to be healthy and happy, and you say as much out loud. Your parents never tried to force you in any one given direction, and it's worked for you your whole life. Why should you try to force some preconceived notion on a baby who hasn't even said his first word yet?

It's not the answer Natsuko wants to hear. She crosses her arms over her chest and stares out the window the rest of the way to the house.

The silence is palpable.

You could fill the silence with basic rebuttals: law school and medical school are both costly ventures, and there's no guarantee that you'll be able to afford to send Yamato to either. That's assuming, of course, that Yamato's future grades and aptitude are enough to get him accepted. There's a thousand things that could go wrong in the next twenty years, you want to say.

But at least Natsuko is interested in Yamato's future. That's a good sign, right?

She doesn't let it go, either. In the days to follow, she confides in your mother that she wants to start a college fund for Yamato. It's never too early to start saving, your mother agrees, but your mother is worried that Natsuko is already pinning such high hopes on the baby.

It's not healthy for anyone, she tells you. It won't end well.

You can't help but agree, but you hope that time will make it better. That Natsuko will realize that Yamato will cone to have passions and ideas that aren't always in line with what she wants for him.

When school starts again, Natsuko stops mentioning it to you. You think maybe she's given up, that she's come to her senses now that she has a reminder of just how expensive even a basic university education can be.

Your class schedules clash as much as ever, it seems. It makes it easier for you to hide the part-time job you've gotten to help build up your secret savings account. It's not much, barely enough to cover one semester's tuition, but you're hopeful that in a few more years it'll be enough money for an apartment lease deposit. A part of you wants to tell Natsuko about your plan, but you're afraid that it'll just encourage her to spend money that you're trying to save, so you keep it to yourself.

The lunar New Year arrives too quickly, and you wish you could be in Shimane to celebrate Yamato's first New Year's. Two years old already, and isn't that hard to believe? You ask Natsuko to go with you to a local shrine to ring in the new year, but she insists on visiting her parents instead. You're invited to go along as an after-thought, as though Natsuko had never thought to ask her husband along to a family gathering.

It hurts more than you care to admit, feeling so insignificant to your wife. You tell Natsuko that you'll meet up with her after you've gone to the shrine.

Nezu shrine isn't necessarily the closest shrine to campus, but it's on the way to the apartment where Natsuko's parents live. You walk slowly up the tori-lined path, not by choice, but because there is a line of people in front of you waiting their turn to ask for good fortune and cleanse away the evil spirits left over from the last year.

The wind is cold, but not bitterly as you stand with your hands in the pockets of your coat, taking in the picturesque scenery. On the wind, you can hear the whispering susurration of people talking, of bells ringing.

And then a child's wail breaks the otherwise relaxing environment.

You half-turn when you hear it, partially from curiosity but mostly on instinct, and see a woman who can't be more than a handful of years older than you holding a baby with one arm as she struggles to fumble with a bag that's slung haphazardly from her shoulder. There's a group of teenaged girls standing between the two of you, and they're politely ignoring both the woman's struggles and the child's crying.

There's an internal battle between your mother's French sense of justice and your Japanese upbringing, and then the woman's brown eyes lock on yours.

Crap. No avoiding her now, you realize as the woman boldly pushes her way past the awkward teenagers and thrusts the screaming child at you.

You stare at her in complete bewilderment because cutting lines is not something that you've seen anyone other than foreigners - namely, your mother - have the courage to do.

"Hold him, please!"

The strange woman commands you in what seems to be a polite enough manner, and you find yourself inexplicably compelled to take the child from her hands. He screams in your ear, a high-pitched wail similar to the sirens on emergency vehicles.

"Just a moment, Taichi-chan." The mother says soothingly as you try to bounce her son in your arms. She digs into the bottom of her bag, making tsking noises with her tongue. "Momma will find it."

You're not sure that Taichi's mother will ever find what she's looking for in that massive bag, so you try to comfort the boy the way that always seems to work with Yamato when you're home.

You sing.

It gets Taichi's attention, because the boy sniffles loudly and stares up at you with wide brown eyes beneath a head of thick, wild brown hair. His mouth is gaping open in his awe of you, and then chubby little hands are reaching up as if to pull your face down.

"Aha!" Taichi's mother exclaims proudly as she produces a pacifier from her bag, but then blinks rapidly as she realizes that her son is no longer crying. "How did you do that?"

You smile as you hand the baby back to his mother. "My son's not much younger than yours. He likes lullabies."

"E~eh." Taichi's mother nods slowly, her eyes wide as Taichi snuggles into her shoulder. "You seem so young, I never…"

That, you decide, is your cue to leave.

"Happy New Year, ma'am." You say, then wave at the baby.

"Happy New Year." Taichi's mother replies eagerly. She takes one of Taichi's chubby little hands in hers and waves it at you. "Say 'Happy New Year' to the nice young man, Taichi-chan! 'Happy New Year!'"

After you complete the ritual of bell ringing, you head towards your in-law's to meet with your wife. It's not a part of the city you're familiar with, and you're more than a little nervous because it is the first time you're meeting them face-to-face. It's a relief when Natsuko answers the door and invites you inside the apartment.

It's a massive apartment by Tokyo standards: three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a large balcony with a fantastic view of the city. The decorations in each room seem expensive, and it dawns on you suddenly why your wife had so much trouble last semester when you were trying to explain the concept of budgeting.

Her parents might not be rich, per se, but they're certainly well-off. It becomes more evident after introductions are made and they bring out the picture albums: here's our trip to Spain, and this? This is India.

How many times have they been to France? As a family, never, but your father-in-law spent a year there in college, and he's been back-and-forth at least thirty times since then. Mostly because he works in the fashion industry, and the company he works for is based in Paris. Every now and then they fly him out to headquarters for consultations, but he's considering retiring soon.

The man is almost twenty years younger than your father. The idea of someone so young retiring boggles your mind, but you try to keep your mouth shut because you don't want to make it difficult for Natsuko.

Your mother-in-law is, thankfully, a traditional Japanese housewife. She cooks delicious food, keeps a tidy house, and sweetly inquires when you'll be bringing her grandchild to visit. She doesn't make you feel like you're being unreasonable when you tell her that it's not something that you and Natsuko can afford to do just yet, bringing Yamato to visit all the way from Shimane just to take him back.

Your father-in-law's silent nodding tells you that it's not likely that your in-laws will be traveling all the way to Shimane to see your son, either. They congratulate you, anyway, and the conversation turns to small talk. Natsuko and her father talk animatedly about her current classes, and your mother-in-law asks you what it was like to grow up in Shimane.

It's not nearly as bad as you'd imagined it would be, but you're grateful none-the-less when the visit is over and you can walk with your wife to the bus station. You're standing there silently beside her when you see something move out of the corner of your eye.

A large snowflake is drifting down, and you stare at it as it lands on Natsuko's coat. Then, as if summoned by the first, thousands more fly lazily through the air. Natsuko is giggling with wonder, smiling up at you and you think to yourself that this is perfection: standing with the woman you love when the year's first snow falls.

There's no one else around to see, so you pull her close and press a chaste kiss to her mouth because it's supposed to be good luck, isn't it?

Natsuko laughs and pushes you away playfully, demanding to know what your intentions are, but then she links her arm through yours and huddles closer to you for warmth.

Yes, you think. This is how the new year should start.

* * *

~ tbc


	5. Impressions (Natsuko POV)

**Impressions**

 _Natsuko POV_

Four weeks into the new semester, you're sitting in your ethics class putting away your notes when you overhear one of the other students exclaim mournfully over an ink splotch on her blouse. It shouldn't mean anything to you at all, except that you've seen your mother-in-law remove similar stains hundreds of times from your father-in-law's shirts, and you're confident that you know how to get it out.

You finish gathering your belongings and walk calmly over to the girl who, on closer inspection, is Kamimura Keiko.

The student editor of the campus newspaper.

You apologize for accidentally listening to her conversation, then introduce yourself before explaining why you're approaching her.

The secret to getting out ink stains, you confide to Kamimura-senpai, is oil. Something in the chemical structure seems to lift ink right off: just let it sit on the stain for a few minutes, throw the blouse in the wash and viola! Good as new.

Kamimura-senpai looks at you skeptically which hurts your pride more than you'd care to admit. You try to shrug it off and head to your next class as calmly as possible.

You meet your husband for an early dinner on campus. You want to vent to him about the day you've had, but Hiroaki vents first. A group assignment in one of his investigative journalism classes is a farce: he's ended up doing most of the work himself because the two third-years he's been partnered with are too lazy to help. He suspects that they've been held back in their studies due to their laziness, but as Hiroaki sighs, he adds that it's been good practice for him. He's made a lot of connections with the local police and some of the radio stations during his research. Imura-sensei is going to be impressed.

It makes your complaint about one skeptical third-year student feel petty and trite, so when Hiroaki asks you about your day, you brush it off as nothing.

Instead, you tell him about your latest essays and tests, all of which have come back ranking in the top five students in each of your classes. You can't help but grin when Hiroaki praises you for your hard work, tells you that he's proud of you.

He even splurges in celebration by treating you to an ice-cream.

Two days later, you're walking in to your second ethics lecture of the week. You take your usual seat and get out your notes for the class.

You're totally unprepared when Kamimura-senpai is standing in front of your seat. She offers you a chocolate bar before thanking you profusely for saving her blouse. Apparently, it'd been one of the last gifts she'd received from her grandmother that recently passed away.

Won't you consider writing a small column for the campus newspaper, Kamimura-senpai asks. It doesn't have to be anything spectacular, she assures you, but small, useful tips and tricks like the one you'd given her about the ink stain.

It's the first time that anyone other than your parents or Hiroaki has asked you for anything.

Of course you agree, not only because you're flattered, but because you know it will make your resume stand out when you graduate.

What does Hiroaki think of you writing such a column? He thinks it's an interesting idea, but he's worried that you won't have much to write about.

You're not exactly running a household yourself, he reminds you.

Left unspoken is an insinuation that most of what you'll write is already common knowledge among most of the students on campus.

You refuse to let your husband's opinion deter you. Even if it means calling your mother-in-law every night for ideas and answers, you are going to write this column for the remainder of the semester and - if Kamimura-senpai asks, next semester, too.

How to remove stains, how to make healthier food and not spend too much money… these are a few of the things that students tell you when you ask what would make life easier on campus for them. A teacher suggests writing a column about taking more effective notes, and one of the foreign exchange students wants to know what restaurants are delicious and cheap off campus.

By the end of the semester, you have nine articles to your name. Writing the articles has also helped to give you a better idea of how you'll eventually run your own household. You're now aware that clothes must be sorted into similar fabrics and similar colors before being laundered. With Hiroaki's help, you've created a notebook to keep track of all the things you purchase. The six-thousand yen withdrawals you make every two weeks is marked for 'grooming' but in reality, five-thousand yen goes into a secret savings account that you intend to use one day for Yamato's medical school.

Or Yamato's law school. You still haven't quite decided yet which direction to push him in.

Other useful things that writing your column has taught you: how to use a rice cooker to make a cake, ten reasons why students should buy the monthly train pass, and which lesser-known off-campus restaurants serve huge portions of food for under five-hundred yen.

The restaurant article wins you the most praise by your peers, and suddenly it's like you're a celebrity. People that you don't even know recognize you when you're on campus, and they ask you questions because they trust you'll get them an answer if you don't already have one.

Some of the questions aren't polite enough to be printed: what is sex like, or how do I know if I'm pregnant?

Others just ask for your opinion: what color do you think will be best this summer, should I buy this or that brand purse, should I tell my brother that I don't like his girlfriend?

It's almost a relief when the semester is over and you can take the train with your husband back to Shimane. Hiroaki is asleep for most of the trip, but you think understand his exhaustion. At the end of his second year, he's had to write a dozen papers, cooperate with several groups of students to work on research projects. It can't be easy for someone who only a year ago had been pursuing a career in music. There's a lot more involved in journalism, you think, and you wonder if maybe your husband is in over his head.

When the train arrives in Shimane, you wake Hiroaki up and follow him as he carries both of your suitcases off. Father-in-law is waiting for you both with his hands clasped behind his back, and when he sees you, he nods with a small smile on his face.

Where is Yamato? Father-in-law tells you that the baby is with mother-in-law at the house, and not to worry, the baby is just fine.

The way he says it makes you wonder what the man is implying, but you follow him and your husband to the van in silence. The drive is so familiar that you're half asleep by the time you arrive at he house. Hiroaki opens he van door for you and gives you a hand down so that you can stagger sleepily towards the house.

You step out of your shoes when you approach the nureen, and movement out of the corner of your eye startles you. Your mother-in-law is sitting quietly in the shade, humming as she strings persimmons for drying, and there's a blond-haired child attempting to crawl beside her.

The child is too big to be Yamato, you think, but who else could it be? As far as you're aware, Hiroaki's nieces and nephews have dark hair, and they're all considerably older than Yamato.

"Who is that, pup?" Mother-in-law asks the baby in a serious tone. "Is that mama?"

The baby makes a noise that sounds more like 'hm' than 'ma' but it's an impressive feat none-the-less when you consider he'd barely been able to that much when you last saw him. He looks up at you no small amount of frustration on his chubby little face as he tries to pull his little body across the nureen, and then he seems to realize that pushing off with his knees makes the going not only easier, but faster.

"Look at him go!" Hiroaki exclaims as he sets the luggage on the wooden planks. "That's my boy!"

Yamato perks up at the sound of your husband's voice, and he moves with even more determination. His arms tire quickly, though, and Yamato plops on his belly with an irritated huff.

It's the only warning you have before the crying begins.

Your first thought is that Yamato is hurt - that maybe he's gotten a splinter in his efforts to crawl, or maybe he's hit his chin. You reach down to pick your son up and hold him to your chest. You try to examine his chin, his hands, to figure out what's causing his discomfort, but your attention only seems to agitate Yamato more.

Hiroaki and his parents talk as if Yamato isn't crying at all, and it irritates you to no end at all. It's obvious that you need help, but no one is offering and you can't bring yourself to ask for it. Asking for help would be admitting that you're not a good-enough mother, wouldn't it?

What makes it worse is that Hiroaki keeps glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. You're not sure if it's because he's irritated that you can't calm Yamato down, or he's trying to indicate that you should take the baby inside. When you don't make a move to leave, Hiroaki turns to you and reaches out for the baby, and you gladly hand his son over.

You watch as your husband tucks Yamato against his side but continues to focus on his conversation with his parents, and somehow, that seems to calm Yamato down. Eventually the baby sniffles and presses his head against Hiroaki's shoulder, stuffs his left thumb into his mouth and closes his eyes.

You excuse yourself from the conversation and go into the house, holding back frustrated tears as you make your way to the room you share with your husband and son.

Why does Yamato hate you?

It's not a fair question to ask, even of yourself, because you realize that he's only a baby and doesn't really understand who the people around him are. Your mother-in-law has told you on multiple occasions that babies are more sensitive to emotions than people realize, and that he probably picks up on your subconscious anxiety.

Subconscious? You scoff at the thought, because your anxieties have always been anything _but_ subconscious.

How does Hiroaki do it? You know that he must be stressed from school, that he has to have some anxiety even if it's not nearly as much as yours, but somehow he always manages to project that aura of calm…

"Natsuko?"

Hiroaki is in the doorway of your room, and you swipe at the tears on your cheeks with your fingers before turning to look at the neatly folded piles of baby clothes on top of the long dresser.

"He's already outgrown all of these." You observe shakily as you glance through them.

Your husband is suddenly beside you, wrapping his arms around you, and you sob into his chest because it just isn't fair. You're Yamato's mother, you should be the one who always calms him down, who always makes him feel better, but for some reason you just don't seem to be able to.

You wonder if you were ever meant to be a mother at all.

Hiroaki doesn't say anything at all - he lets you cry into his shoulder as he strokes your hair. Father-in-law tells you both that mother-in-law is putting Yamato down for a nap in their room, and Hiroaki makes some small sound to indicate that he's heard.

After what feels like an eternity, Hiroaki steps back slightly and wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs. His eyes are so warm and caring as he looks down at you, and you feel much better somehow, even though nothing's changed.

Maybe that's Hiroaki's secret technique, one that works as well on you as it does on Yamato.

The realization makes you feel foolish, because it's selfish to think that only mothers can comfort their children, isn't it? You were always closer to your father growing up than you were to your mother, after all…

Something must show in your face, because Hiroaki's mouth quirks up on one side in that roguish grin that you love so much.

"Feeling better?" He asks the question like he knows the answer already, but you smile and nod anyway.

He leads you out into the living room by the hand and urges you to sit down before he heads off into the kitchen. Moments later, he returns with tea and a tray of your favorite biscuits and he sets the table in front of you.

This is the man you fell in love with, this is the man you want Yamato to become: thoughtful and sweet, strong and understanding.

It's almost too good to be true.

* * *

~ tbc


	6. Tragedy Strikes (Hiroaki POV)

The summer between your second and third year of college is an eventful one.

It starts off well enough, when your father tells you that Yamato has been pulling himself up and standing while supported by almost any piece of furniture he can get his chubby little hands on. When you arrive at the house and carry the suitcases inside, Yamato is standing by the TV, staring up at you with bright blue eyes and a curious expression on his little face.

Immediately, Natsuko wonders where your mother is. Yamato could get hurt, she says, because no one is watching him.

There's a sudden sobbing coming from your parent's room. Your father opens the door and your mother wipes tears from her eyes.

"Kichirou called while you were gone." Your mother tells your father weakly before another sob wracks her bird-like shoulders.

At first, you think your mother might be crying happy tears, that your brother-in-law called to say that your oldest sister is finally pregnant after nine years of marriage. But words slip out between gasps and sobs that sound far more ominous.

Stabbed.

Left for dead.

Things that might be common elsewhere in the world, but aren't supposed to happen in Japan. Especially not in rural Saga where your sister lives.

It has to be a mistake, a misunderstanding on your mother's part.

Who would try to hurt your oldest sister? She's just a house wife trying to raise two step-sons while her doctor husband works long hours between the hospital and the university. There's no reason that you can think of that explains the situation at all.

Your hands are balling into fists, and before you know it, you punch the wall beside you. Wood cracks and splinters, biting into the thin skin of your knuckles that ache in a distant way.

There's a horrified gasp from Natsuko as you lower your hand that's dripping blood on the floor. Later, she scolds you for hurting yourself needlessly.

Punching the wall won't heal your sister, she says, as if you don't know.

But punching the wall is all you can do, when you don't know who hurt your sister or why.

The next morning, the five of you make the almost six-hour train ride to Saga station.

It's Yamato's first train ride, and if the duration of his crying is anything to go by, your son hates the experience. Natsuko hands him to you when it becomes clear that Yamato isn't hungry or in need of a diaper change. You try to sing to soothe him, but the song you usually sing is the one that Chiyoko used to sing to put you to sleep.

Singing is difficult when your throat is choked with tears you can't cry in front of your parents.

Thankfully, Yamato cries himself to sleep half-way through the trip. Natsuko falls asleep sitting beside you, her head pillowed on your shoulder.

It's reassuring to feel your wife and your son when you're terrified of the news waiting for you in Saga.

When the train arrives at the station, you carry Yamato in one arm and pull the single suitcase that your wife packed for the three of you. Your father pulls the suitcase that Natsuko helped your mother pack.

"Gitei!" You hear Kichirou's voice echo in the almost-empty station as your family descends the escalator.

He hasn't shaved, you notice as you approach your brother-in-law. His shirt is wrinkled, tie hanging loose around his neck, and he looks like he hasn't slept at all. Maybe he hasn't.

"Gikei." You say his familial title first because it's what comes to your mind when you see him. When you introduce your wife and your still-sleeping-son, you call him by his full name: Watanabe Kichirou. "Oneesan… is she…?"

Kichirou looks away from you, bowing slightly. "I'm sorry."

Your mother lets out a blood-curdling wail before she collapses against your father, and Natsuko looks up at you like she doesn't know what to do.

At first, it's like a vacuum has sucked all sound out of the train station. You watch Kichirou's mouth move, but you can't hear what he's saying.

Does it matter what he's saying? Your sister is gone, and suddenly you can't help but remember all of the phone calls when you promised to visit her but never did.

You should have visited your sister when she asked you to, but it's too late now. She's gone forever, and you can't even ask her forgiveness.

There's a movement against your chest as Yamato starts to wake up, and slowly sound returns to you. Kichirou has a van waiting at the northern entrance of the station to drive you to his home. Chiyoko's home.

Your parents follow Kichirou silently, and you fall into step behind them with Natsuko by your side. It's a long, wet drive to the house located on the north-eastern side of the city. When Kichirou pulls the van into the driveway, there's a face in the upstairs window.

One of his sons, maybe the oldest one.

Yoshi? Yasu? It's something like that, you think, though you're shamed to realize that you never paid much attention to your sister's family. You open the van door and step out into the cold rain, covering Yamato with your jacket while you wait for Kichirou to lead you and your family inside. The face in the upstairs window vanishes, but you can see the curtains swaying slightly as though they've been shut in haste.

Inside, the house is a testament to your sister's housekeeping ability. Shoes are lined neatly on a rack by the door, baseball bats sitting beside umbrellas in a tall box on the floor, soccer balls hanging in bags suspended from pegs on the wall along with the hand-knitted bags that Chiyoko probably used when she went to the grocery store…

"Shin-kun?" Kichirou shouts as he leads you into the house. "Take these bags up to the room, eh?"

"Make 'niichan do it!" The boy sitting in front of the television whines, not even turning his head to look at his father.

"He's not usually like this." Kichirou apologizes to you and your parents. "Chiyoko was like a mother to him."

There's a soft thud-thud of feet on the stairs, and then the older boy is standing beside his father, staring awkwardly at his feet and rubbing his right arm with his left hand.

"Yoshirou, you'll take the bags won't you?"

The boy refuses to look anywhere but at the floor, but somehow he manages to take your father's suitcase before murmuring a promise to come back for yours. Yamato is fussing for a bottle, Natsuko says, and Kichirou shows her where the kitchen is to prepare a bottle while you try to calm your son.

Shin, the younger boy, turns when he hears Yamato crying. Will he say something rude, you wonder, or will he leave the room?

Instead, he asks to hold Yamato.

"I never had a younger sibling." Shin says as you sit on the floor near him. "'Kaasan never had any children with 'tousan, so…"

There's an awkward silence as Shin realizes that he's talking insensitively about your older sister, and he reaches out to touch Yamato's head. Your son whimpers loudly, then cries when Yoshirou returns to take your luggage upstairs.

"Otouji, your room is this way!" Yoshirou shouts, tugging on your coat insistently.

"But I wanna play…" Shin starts to whine, but a dark glare from his older brother shuts him up.

Yoshirou still isn't looking at your face, but his fingers are tightly clenched in the fabric of your coat. He's desperate for some reason, but you don't understand why. Before you can try to frame a question, though, Natsuko returns and presents Yamato with his bottle.

Yamato is all-too-happy to take it from her, clumsily lifting the nipple to his mouth and sucking greedily.

"Let your uncle rest, Yoshirou. Just take their suitcase upstairs. Go on, then!"

"But…"

"Yoshirou!" The boy disappears quickly, his feet and the suitcase thudding loudly on the stairs, and your brother-in-law sighs heavily. You wonder how he'll manage to raise his two sons now that your sister is gone. "Please don't mind my sons. They're at that difficult age, and Chiyoko was the only mother they knew."

Yoshirou is the one who found your sister laying slumped on the edge of the rice field behind the house, Kichirou tells you. There was blood everywhere, all over the boy's school clothes and the neighbor's back porch when Yoshirou ran for help. Chiyoko hadn't been conscious when the ambulance arrived, but she'd managed to cling to life a full eighteen hours before succumbing to blood loss and shock.

The police think it was a robbery gone wrong, that Chiyoko was taken by surprise and when she couldn't produce the valuable items that the robber wanted, she was dragged outside and murdered to keep his identity secret.

It doesn't make sense to you, because if Yoshirou had gone to the neighbor's for help, wouldn't they have seen your sister being murdered? Wouldn't they have heard something?

Later, you follow Natsuko upstairs to put Yamato down for his afternoon nap. You sit on the floor beside her, staring out the small window at the narrow, empty road that runs between the four houses out in the middle of the rice fields.

"I don't like that boy. Yoshirou." Natsuko whispers. "He's very odd, don't you think? It's creepy."

"He's probably traumatized." You reply slowly. "Wouldn't you be if you found your mother hacked almost to death in her back yard?"

"But she wasn't his mother. She was his _step_ -mother. There's a difference."

"Not for oneesan." Not for anyone, you want to argue, but you know that there are people who still think that way.

You didn't realize that Natsuko was one of them.

"You don't think it's convenient that he found her still alive, but didn't see anyone suspicious fleeing the area?"

What is she trying to imply, you wonder? Natsuko can't seriously be suggesting that your nephew killed your sister. Why? Because she was his step-mother?!

You want to scoff at the notion, to tell Natsuko that she's watched one too many American soap operas. But even if it's not likely, you don't have any proof that Natsuko's theory is wrong. Isn't that one of the first rules of journalism, to not discount any theory until you've gathered as much evidence as you can get?

Besides, your heart aches too much to think about the details just yet.

You focus on getting through the evening meal, struggling to find an appetite as your mother cries and your father carries on polite conversation with your brother-in-law. There are things that belonged to your sister, things that Kichirou isn't sure that your parents want to take with them back to Shimane, things that the police didn't take for evidence.

A picture album from Chiyoko's childhood and the old harmonica that she used to play religiously sit on top of a stack of VHS tapes that you haven't seen in years: some American actor that your sister became obsessed with when she dated a foreign-exchange student in her junior high days. There are good memories here.

The box is moved upstairs to your guest room, and you spend a restless night tossing and turning on the futon beside your wife as you think of how to pack the contents inside your suitcase when it comes time to head back to Shimane.

In the morning, there's no time to think about such things. It's a battle to dress Yamato in his miniature black suit because he keeps squirming out of your lap in an attempt to explore the room. The real struggle comes when you have to put his shoes on.

Yamato hates to wear shoes. He kicks and fusses and when you still manage to tie them on anyway, Yamato's face reddens and he starts to cry.

It's only shoes, you want to argue, but there's no use in arguing with a two-year-old. You wonder how long it'll be before Yamato figures out how to get them off as you carry him downstairs.

Not long at all, it turns out, because the van isn't even half-way to the funeral hall before you realize that Yamato's missing a shoe. Natsuko scolds you for not tying them properly, and she searches the floor of the van frantically for it. It's no use, though, and you can't help but wonder if anyone - other than your wife - will care.

The funeral director meets you in the lobby of the building, and one of his assistants guides you to the room where your sister's remains have been laid for relatives and friends to pay their final respects. When you enter the room, the first thing that you see is a portrait of Chiyoko surrounded by massive white chrysanthemums.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you hear your mother cry your sister's name. It echoes eerily in the room, and Yamato whines in confusion against you.

Everything moves like a blur after that initial moment. You barely remember lighting incense for your sister's spirit, and then you're sitting on the floor beside your father, staring dazedly across the room at your brother-in-law and his sons while Yamato tugs on your tie and makes barely coherent requests for your attention. Natsuko tries to take Yamato from you, but it's actually comforting to feel the weight of him in your lap, to bury your face against his hair and breathe in the smell of innocence that only small children seem to have.

Hours go by. Dozens of faceless figures dressed in black come to offer their condolences: distant relatives, you think, Kichirou's co-workers, Chiyoko's former co-workers and friends. People whose names you should know, but don't.

And then the funeral director arrives. It's time to say your last goodbyes, and Kichirou is taking the picture of your sister from the display, clutching it to his chest as four young men move your sister's coffin from the room in a slow procession towards the crematorium.

Kichirou follows the coffin, your parents and his sons on either side. Your feet feel like lead blocks as you trail after them, but then the coffin is carried through doors that visitors aren't granted permission to pass through. From behind a wall of glass, you watch as wood burns, flowers smoking as the water evaporates from their petals. Soon, the flames are all that you can see.

And then… it's over. Your sister's ashes will be placed in an urn and set in the mausoleum if you care to visit her, but there's nothing else to be done.


End file.
